Nothing but clothes inside—no ID, no camera equipment, no knife, no gun, nada.
I stepped to the back door of the barn and let my gaze wander over the rolling pastures just beginning to sprout with green and gold, wildflowers tangling with the weeds, a patch of snow here and there on a hill. No sign of Jimmy. I’d just have to wait.
I sat on the mattress. An hour later I rested my head on his pillow. The last thing I remembered was the sun beginning its fall toward the end of the earth.
Whir-whir, kaching-kaching-kaching.
My eyes opened. The room had gone gold with fading sunlight, illuminating a hundred million dust motes invisible at any other time of the day.
I lay on the cot. Jimmy stood in the doorway, camera attached to his face. A quick glance revealed I still had on all my clothes. Maybe he had learned something after I’d slugged him the last time.
“You know, most women might call a cop if they found some guy taking pictures of them while they slept.”
He didn’t even lower the camera. “You’re not most women, and I’m not some guy.”
Kaching.
I sat up. His eyes appeared above the lens. “Come on, Lizzy, I’m almost done.”
“You are done.” He sighed and set the camera aside. “Where are the Muellers?”
“They sold out a while back.”
I had a sudden bad feeling. “Sold out to who?”
His lips curved.
I leaped to my feet. “Dammit, Jimmy. You think cops are stupid? I’m surprised they didn’t get here ahead of me.”
“I didn’t buy it outright. You nuts? No one will find me, at least not yet.”
“What are you doing here? If you mean to run, then run. If not, then turn yourself in, get this settled and go back to your life.”
“It’s not that simple.”
Something in his voice made me pause. He sounded old. Tired. Sad. Defeated. Jimmy was a lot of things, but none of those things.
“What’s the matter?” I asked, taking a better look at him. He was thinner than normal, pale too. I hadn’t noticed until now because the usual shade of his skin was so much darker than most.
He glanced away, hesitating just long enough that I knew whatever he said next was not what he’d planned to say first. “I’ve been sick.”
“You?” Jimmy didn’t get sick. Probably because he’d been exposed to every germ on the planet before he turned ten.
Concern flickered, but I refused to let it show. He did not need me. He never had.
“You’re better now?”
“Yeah. I was pretty out of it for a few days—worst I’ve ever been—but a little rest, a lot of fluids, good as new.”
He didn’t sound good as new; he sounded ancient as Methuselah, one of those Old Testament patriarchs who’d checked out at the age of nine hundred and sixty-nine.
“What’s the matter?” I repeated softly.
He remained silent for so long, when he finally answered, I no longer expected him to.
“Ruthie’s dead. Isn’t that enough?”
I hadn’t forgotten. But I didn’t feel as though Ruthie were really gone, perhaps because I’d talked to her in my dreams.
However, the woman who’d raised us had been murdered—horribly—and Jimmy was accused of it.
Though in light of recent events, I knew the accusation wasn’t true.
“What did you see at Ruthie’s?” I asked.
He gave me a sharp glance. “Why? Had a newsflash?”
“You might say that.”
Jimmy inched into the room and closed the door. I frowned. There was no one here, so why close the door?
I’d left my gun in the safe—not that I’d use it on Jimmy. Maybe. But I’d brought along the knife, concealed it in a fanny pack I’d had around my waist until I’d decided to lie down. The thing was tangled in the sheets, too far away for me to retrieve without making an issue of it. Did I want to make an issue of it?
Jimmy stopped several feet from me. Not yet.
“What did you see?” he asked.
“Why did you leave a silver knife on my nightstand?”
His eyes widened. He didn’t bother to deny he’d left the weapon. “Did you need it?”
“Yes.”
“What came for you?”
“Berserker.”
“Wolf or bear?”
My mouth fell open at his knowledge of the word. Jimmy hadn’t exactly been a brainiac in school.
“Bear,” I said. “And how did you know that?”
He shoved a hand through his hair. “I didn’t want you involved. I told Ruthie you weren’t ready.”
“For what?”
He hesitated, face set, mouth tight, then threw up his hands. “It’s too late now. She gave you the power. You’re going to have to deal.”
“With what?”
“Ruthie was special.”
“You’re just figuring that out now, Sanducci?”
He ignored my sarcasm. “She had a gift.”
I stilled. “She said she’d given me a gift.”
“You talked to her before she died?”
I had, but not about this.
“Not exactly,” I murmured.
He moved closer, the tense way he held himself making me move back. “What, exactly?”
“After.”
His brows lifted. “You talk to dead people now?”